Then, her gaze landed on Raphael. “Find me when you’re done, honey.”
Raphael did not reply. He merely followed his father, leaving Colette to turn her eyes toward me with a sharp, knowing glint. A storm was brewing behind her gaze.
I tried to slip away, already anticipating what was coming, but she strolled toward me, a glass of wine in hand, acting as if I were invisible.
Before I could react, she was suddenly in front of me, feigning surprise. And in the next moment—chaos erupted.
Colette stumbled back dramatically, the glass slipping from her hand and the glass shards hit her leg. Red wine splattered across my white dress, an ugly stain spreading like a wound.
And then she cried out.
“Blood!” Her voice rang across the room, loud enough to turn every head toward us.
I barely had time to process what had happened before Raphael appeared, his face clouded with concern.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Before I could speak, Colette’s voice trembled as she clung to his arm.
“It’s my fault,” she sniffled, the perfect picture of innocence. “I accidentally bumped into Nadine. Ah… my foot, it hurts so much.”